Feverish
by Red Warrior
Summary: Mia celebrates her birthday, but after she has drunk a bit too much, Rhys is left to take her back to her room. And in the end, he is glad he did.
1. Chapter 1: Party

_RhysxMia fanfiction! Those two need more love._

_**FEVERISH**_

"To Mia!" Zihark shouted as he raised his fourth glass and leaned heavily on Stefan. "And to her newly-earned freedom she already had but now it's official, or whatever!"

Cheers and claps filled the room following the swordmaster's drunken speech, as well as laughter.

This was the first party the mercenaries had held in three years. Mia's eighteenth birthday had just been a pretext, really, to loosen up and share a laugh or two. _Still, _Rhys thought to himself as he watched his friends chat, laugh, and even dance, _after what we have been put through these past months, I think we all deserve a break from our normal life. _This was the reason why he was amused to see Boyd, who was already half drunk, engage in a beer-drinking contest with Mia. Witnessing Leanne dance with Naesala as the crow growled really was a sight to behold, too.

"I'm not curing any hangover tomorrow," Rhys warned playfully although he knew he would, eventually. "And I doubt Mist will, too."

"You're spoiling all the fun, Rhys," said valkyrie chuckled from her seat nearby. The priest noticed Tormod was sitting next to her with his arm around her shoulders. The teenager looked like he had had a drink or two himself, as his big grin and slumped behavior showed, and Rhys hoped he would go no further with Mist in that state. Oh, he wasn't worried about Mist, on the contrary, it was Tormod he was afraid would be harmed...

_Thump! _Boyd had stumbled to the side and crashed on the floor, bumping into Kieran in the process. The Crimean knight, who was at the moment hugging Marcia, held onto her even more so he wouldn't fall down, which got the female pegasus knight and Oscar to laugh out. Kieran growled and almost tripped over Boyd when he turned around to "fend off the foolish foe who had so foolishly made a foolish attempt to surprise the Great Captain Kieran, Fifth Platoon-" There, Oscar and Marcia dragged the rambling redhead away.

Mia jumped up onto Boyd's chest, her arm raised in triumph. "Bow down to me!" she ordered happily, but her hiccups went unheard. The warrior was already out cold and even snoring. Zihark and Stefan were clapping, though, congratulating their swordmaster friend, but they burst out lauging when Mia tried to jump off of Boyd and tripped on the warrior's helmet. The young woman lost her balance and had to hold onto Rhys to stay up. The bishop's orange eyes widened in surprise and he staggered a little under the added weight. "Sorry," she grinned sheepishly.

Rhys shook his head. "I'm walking you back to your room, Mia, you are going to collapse," he said as he secured his arm around her waist to offer her support.

"Hey guys, to whoever can hear me... to Rhys and Mia!" Zihark yawned as he raised his now empty glass above his head. "May they live happily ever after!" A few cheers were heard, and a slapping sound rang into the air; Tormod had apparently gone too far, once again.

The healer shot him an annoyed look. "You go to sleep now, or I make you," he threatened as he half pulled, half dragged a giggling Mia in the corridor. "Stupid swordmaster," he grumbled over Zihark's comment.

"Aww Rhys, you're so cute when you're angry," Mia giggled.

"You are drunk, Mia."

"Now, does it really matter?" she almost purred as she wrapped her own arms around the priest's neck and waist. Rhys could smell the alcohol more than ever, and it was intoxicating, but not nearly as intoxicating as her proximity or her body heat.

"I take it back: you are _very_ drunk, Mia," he tried to say seriously but the heat in his cheeks didn't help at all. The swordmaster's body was tighly pressed against his own and Rhys wondered how much time he was going to hold on. Priest or not, there was only so much a man could take when the woman he liked was hugging him like that.

"Aww Rhys, you're all red in the face!" Mia laughed as she gave his scarlet cheek a big kiss. It only served to worsen the bishop's predicament. "Embarassed 'bout something?"

Rhys kept silent and pretended to be searching for her room. _Wow, this place is so big, I've never seen a castle so big, I wonder how much time it would take to get lost in here, _he thought to himself, trying to forget about the situation. _Probably five or ten minutes, and then it would take about four hours to get out of here. I mean, there are just so many doors and so much stairs, how can someone actually live here, it certainly gets very annoying and-_

"Say Rhys, do you have feelings for me?"

Silence. This time Rhys couldn't think of a proper way to ignore the question, and his blush took on a darker shade.

Mia smiled, almost a true genuine sober smile. "I knew it. You're very cute, Rhys, y'know?"

"You are drunk Mia." Those words seemed to solve everything that night.

But Mia kept giggling under her breath, playing with a lock of orange hair and hiccuping to herself along the way. By the time they reached her room, Rhys was almost carrying her. She didn't weigh a lot, but her constant laughter and struggles made her at least ten pounds heavier on the bishop's arms.

Rhys opened the door with one hand. "We are here, Mia." He looked down at her and took in her ragged appearance. "Will you need help to change?"

Once again Mia purred, and she scratched Rhys's chin affectionately like she would do to a cat. "Why? Want to take advantage of the situation, tiger?"

_If she weren't drunk, I'd be laughing my head off... or jumping in her bed, maybe. But she is drunk. _Indeed she was drunk, and she didn't know what she was doing. "Well, I suppose you'll manage," Rhys said as calmly as he could despite his boiling blood as he walked over to the bed and sat her down on it.

Mia leaned back and laughed. "Scared of little old me?" she asked, and now Rhys was sure he was imagining things. Her voice definitely _wasn't _that sensual.

The priest decided that retreat was the best course of action in this one battle, and he was sure even Soren would agree. Otherwise something could go bad. "Well you have to rest, so I'll leave you to it. Good night," he said as he turned away to the door. Yet, he froze when Mia grabbed his hands in both of hers.

"Aww please!" the swordmaster pouted, pulling Rhys to her until he was sitting on the edge of the mattress in front of her. "I don't wanna be left alone! Please Rhys... stay with me?"

"Mia, you need to rest, and I-"

"Please Rhys... as a birthday present?" Oh no... she was making puppy eyes now.

The orange-haired young man struggled with himself to decide whether he was going to stay or not, but one glance at the pleading green eyes and the words were out before he could help it. "Fine, I'll stay, butonly until you are asleep."

Mia gave a delighted grin, and Rhys was about to give her a smile of his own when her arms shot around his neck and she pulled him to her; or rather over her, because she had lied down on her back. The man sputtered with surprise, unable to move. "W-what was that for?" he stammered, blushing fiercely.

The swordmaster didn't answer, she was too busy running her hand through his hair. "Mhm, granted, you don't know anything about swords... but certainly, you make up for it elsewhere, don't you, Rhys?" Mia said absently, her hands moving down to his back. "Maybe... maybe you know of another kind of swordmanship."

"Mia!" Rhys gasped as he sat up. The purple-haired young woman took advantage of his move and rolled him onto his back so she was on top. She began caressing his cheek with her fingertips, slowly, almost lovingly. Although Rhys was enjoying the motion, he knew from Mia's body language that she intended to take it farther – he _was _a healer after all, this was his field of expertise. Which didn't mean he wasn't nervous, or scared even. The young man closed his hand around Mia's to get her attention. "Mia, as much as I hate to say it... you are drunk, you don't know what you are doing and these are probably things you will regret later on."

Mia just giggled again and lowered her head so she could speak directly into his ear. "I know I won't regret anything," she whispered huskily. "I have feelings for you too, Rhys."

This left the young healer dumbstruck. Did she really return his feelings, or was it just alcohol speaking? He pondered the idea over, not uttering a sound, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly jumped when Mia began trailing soft kisses from his ear to his jaw. He gave out a quiet gasp when she straddled his waist and her lips moved down to his throat. Alcohol acting too? Well, in fact, Rhys didn't care all that much, now that he thought about it. He was but a man, and what's a man to do in this kind of situation?

Rhys finally gave up on fighting and brought his hands to her back as Mia's nimble fingers worked on undoing the fastenings of his pure white robe. When she was done opening it, the swordmaster untucked Rhys' blue shirt so it loosened and she bent down to kiss his collarbone.

The bishop managed to wriggle his right arm out of his sleeve and he wrapped it around Mia's waist to reach her belt and unbuckle it. Her orange dress was the only thing between their chests now, but it probably wouldn't be for long. The young woman smiled and kissed the priest on the lips, gently as first, but then with more force. Rhys leaned up in anticipation as he felt her hand slid downwards... downwards... to rest upon his hips. Mia had frozen.

Rhys parted his lips from hers to whisper: "Mia, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to." Still she didn't move. "If you don't feel the same way, it's okay, I'm not offended really." No response. "Mia are you listening?"

Light snoring. Warm breath upon his neck. She was asleep.

His first thought was to feel disappointed, but some part of him felt relief as well. He was glad Mia would not do something she might not want to do, but at the same time he was sad they hadn't done anything. It had been so close... _Stop being selfish, _he thought to himself. _It's not all about you. Mhm... I'll talk to her in the morning, I can't get up anyway. _Rhys gently wrapped his arms around the young woman's waist and settled his cheek against her hair.

_Let's hope she doesn't rip my head off in the morning... _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Dawn found Rhys already wide awake, and playing with a lock of deep purple hair. Mia's head was still nestled on his chest, and her warm breath tickled his bare collarbone; Rhys wouldn't move. A nagging voice told him he should leave, but he felt at peace just lying here, with Mia's comforting weight on his chest and her warm body in his arms. Occasionally, he would run his hand up and down her soft back, and play with a strand of her hair. But he stopped almost at once, afraid that she would wake up and push him away.

After a while – the sun had just begun lighting the room – Mia stirred against the bishop's body. Rhys looked down at the mop of messy dark hair and couldn't help a smile when the girl mewed and rubbed her sleep-filled eyes, not yet registering what she was leaning on. When she did, however, she turned her head up to look at him. "Oh," she mumbled quietly. "Hello Rhys..."

"Welcome back amongst the living," the priest chuckled.

"My head, it hurts," the swordmaster groaned as she tried to get up.

Rhys' hands grabbed her arms to keep her from getting up and making her predicament even worse. "It's no wonder, you drank so much after all... Stay still, don't even think about getting up."

"What happened?" she asked as she let him lie her down on the bed.

"You got drunk."

"Oh." Mia's hands went to her temples once again. "Oh yes... I remember."

Rhys froze. What did she mean by that? Did she remember getting drunk, or everything else? The whole "trying to sleep with him" story?

"I remember... nothing."

_Well, this settles that_. Rhys couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He would have liked to talk with Mia about it, and he would have loved to hear her say the same things than the day before. Overnight he had thought about everything he had lived by her side, everything he liked about her, and he had come to a conclusion he had known from the beginning; he loved her. But did Mia love him back? Now that she was sober, he had hoped to talk to her about it, but his hopes crumbled.

"Rhys, you look frustrated," Mia spoke up and shook him out of his daydreaming. "Did I say something bad? Oh I'm sorry!"

"Calm down, Mia, you didn't say anything bad, it's nothing," the orange-haired man tried to smile.

But it didn't fool Mia, even in her current state. "What did I say then?"

"Nothing, believe me, you were drunk so it doesn't really matter," Rhys shrugged.

"... Was it harsh? I tend to say harsh things when I'm sleepy, say, was it harsh?"

The priest just sighed. "It wasn't harsh, Mia." But then he couldn't help adding: "It was just a little surprising."

He cursed his slip of the tongue when the young woman tilted her head to one side and gave him a funny look. "What do you mean, surprising? What did I do exactly?"

"Well, you... you asked me if I had feelings for you, then you tried to make me sleep with you... well sleeping wasn't the thing you had in mind, to be truthful," Rhys said honestly; he had never been able to lie to her.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mia fell back onto the bed with a loud thump and closed her eyes. He thought for a moment that she was unconscious, but then she sighed long and loud. "Just _what _did I drink yesterday?" the girl groaned. "I'm sorry Rhys, I never meant to make you go through all this! Just what was I thinking?"

When she smacked her forehead, however, the young priest caught her hand and brought it back down onto the bed. "Mia, calm down please... nothing happened, I swear it."

"This is all Stefan and Zihark's fault! They poisoned me!"

"Goddess' sake, Mia, take it easy, I tell you nothing happened."

The swordmaster finally calmed down enough to talk seriously. "I'm sorry Rhys, I'm really sorry," she said once again, rubbing her forehead. "It probably wasn't funny at all."

"Well, to be honest it wasn't, I didn't want you to do things you might regret." But if he wanted to be _really _honest, Rhys had to admit the least funny part was when he had realized Mia was asleep. But he wasn't going to tell her that; last night, he would have had the courage to speak from his heart but now... he wasn't so sure about it.

"You probably hate me now?" Mia asked quietly.

"What? Are you joking? I'm not going to hate you just because of this, besides-" Rhys gave a weak smile, "-if you had been sober I'm not sure I'd have refused."

Now Mia was staring at him. She blinked a few times but she didn't speak, and she didn't move. Rhys was waiting for her to yell at him or even hit him, and he even began making up apologies in his head. But he hadn't expected her to do what she did then; Mia burst out laughing.

It was the bishop's turn to blink and stare quizzically.

"Oh I get it! I get it!" Mia gasped in between fits of laughter. "You've been pulling my leg all along! In fact I didn't do anything like that, Stefan and Zihark made you tell me those things! I'm sure they are standing right behind the door!"

Rhys could only stare, his mouth slightly opened. A joke? She believed it was a joke?

"Those guys are something... come on, boys, come out! I figured your tricky joke out! I'll have to admit you really play it well, Rhys, you're a great actor," Mia smiled, but it only stabbed Rhys' heart a little more.

"Yes... aren't I?" he mumbled weakly.

"I went for it, you really had me there!" the young woman chuckled.

"That I did... it's getting late," the priest said as he got up, straightening his robe. "I'll leave you to rest, I must... feed the dogs, yes, my turn to feed the dogs. Good bye."

"See you later!" Mia waved as Rhys closed the door of the room after him. "That good old Rhys, always willing to play jokes! Where would I be without him!"

Mia laughed a few seconds more but then she began to wonder.

"Since when do we have dogs?"


	2. Chapter 2: Morning After

_**FEVERISH – PART II**_

Three p.m. Stefan yawned. It was the twentieth time since he had woken up, earlier in the afternoon. His hangover had died down a little, but he was still feeling dizzy – enough anyway to try to take a spoonful of tea with a fork. Sitting alone in the kitchen with his steaming mug, he vaguely wondered what Zihark would look like with a massive hangover, or what Mia had done to Rhys the previous evening.

The green-haired swordmaster chuckled; he was sure nothing had happened at all between the two of them. Mia did get drunk, all right, but Rhys was trustworthy and honest, he would never take advantage of her in anyway. _Now, if she insisted a bit, maybe they got carried away, _the Branded reflected, methodically stirring his tea with a knife. _Why am I having those thoughts? She was tired, she probably fell asleep before they even reached her room. Nothing to worry about. _

"World, here I come," a gruffy voice mumbled from the doorway. Stefan raised his head and smirked when he caught sight of his fellow swordmaster. Zihark was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his silvery blue hair all messy and sticking up at odd angles. His bloodshot eyes were shut halfway and his smile was as uncertain as his knees at that moment. "Talk about an early riser."

"I got up an hour ago," Stefan grinned smugly as if it were some sort of contest.

"Madman." Zihark staggered towards the table and he fell down into the chair in front of his friend. "I feel like ten horses trampled on my head and threw me down a cliff."

"You poor thing!" the half-breed laughed, waving his knife around a little. "And here I thought you had gotten used to it!"

"Shut it, grass-head," he rumbled unhappily. "And be careful with that knife!"

"What knife?" Stefan looked around a little but when he couldn't find said object, he just shrugged it off and decided Zihark was seeing things. "Anyway, have you seen Mia?"

The blue-haired mercenary shook his head and was about to say something when a disturbingly cheery voice rang out in the mess. "Here you are guys!"

Both men turned their heads to see Mia standing in the doorway, a smiled etched across her face. One might never think she had been drinking herself into oblivion the night before, seeing her standing there without a care in the world. She surprised them even more when she walked up to the wall and stood on her hands upside-down, her long purple hair flowing around her head. "How are you guys feeling today?" the girl asked, chuckling.

"Well, a bit tired, but you seem just fine," Zihark gulped, not believing his eyes. "How can you do that?"

"You mean, feeling okay although I should have a full hangover?" Mia could just imagine Zihark's nod, and she smirked. "Rhys gave me some medecine... by the way, you really got me good with your joke, and I must say I'm impressed."

Stefan and Zihark blinked and looked at one another. Why was she talking about jokes? They hadn't done anything to her since they had taped her sword to her belt and her boots on the floor a week ago. She couldn't possibly be talking about that, she had been so mad at them. "What are you talking about, Mia?" Stefan asked.

"Don't play dumb," Mia grinned as she lightly kicked the wall with her feet. "You tricked Rhys into making me believe I tried to sleep with him. Now that's what I call subtle."

Both male swordmasters exchanged a bewildered look, as if asking one another if they had done something according to what Mia said. After a few seconds of blinking and staring, they silently acknowledged that they had not. Definitely not. "Sorry darling, yesterday we both went to our beds to sleep alcohol out," Zihark informed her.

"Like I'd believe that," Mia chuckled, waving her feet into the air to keep her balance. "Knock it off, Rhys already told me it was you, no need to keep on trying."

Stefan shook his head. "Now you listen to me. I don't know about our cat-loving partner, but I'm the kind of drunk who remembers," he stated, his stirring of his tea with his knife breaking whatever credibility he might have had. "And what I remember is this: you drank about three bottles while challenging Boyd to a drinking contest, beat his sorry ass up, but then you were so dizzy you could have mistook Lethe for a carpet. Rhys offered to walk you back to your room, you went out, and that's the last we saw of you that evening. Period."

Amazingly, Mia stilled her movements and craned her neck to look at her friends. "Are you… serious?"

"As serious as one can be." Zihark nodded to approve Stefan's sentence.

"Wait… then that means I really tried to sleep with hiiiiiiiiiiim aah!" The young woman lost her balance and fell backwards to land unceremoniously on her rear. Zihark got up and rushed to her help, but she was already sitting up. "Goddess! I really tried to sleep with him! I'm a perv, just like you!"

"Hey!" both swordmasters exclaimed when she said that.

"Who slept with who?" came Gatorie's question as he sneakily popped his head through the door. But he was easily ignored as Mia babbled on.

"Wait! Then he said he… that he… and I laughed! I didn't… I didn't believe him… I'm horrible!" By now the young mercenary was pulling at her hair with one hand and nibbling on the nails of the other. She glared at Zihark when he laughed. "Shut up!"

But the man kept on laughing, and Stefan wondered if he was still drunk from the night before. "I was sure it was gonna happen! The two of you, alone in a room, you drunk? I should have took bets, I would have won a nice stash of gold!" But his laughing died down when he caught sight of the deadly glare aimed at him. "Well, em… how did it end?"

Mia put her chin upon her knees and frowned as she always did when she was thinking. She went over last evening's events for a good two minutes before she spoke up. "I… don't know. I can't remember! He just said he stopped me, but if I had been sober he… he…" Her voice trailed off, much to her two friends' disappointment.

"Yes?" Zihark tried to nudge her to go on.

"Nothing," she said a bit too quickly not to be caught.

Stefan grinned. "He would have accepted?"

"Well yes… No! No! I didn't say that! You didn't hear that!" Mia flailed helplessly as if it would erase what she had just said, but Stefan had his arms crossed over his chest and Zihark supported a triumphal grin. "Oh crackers…"

"Way to go, Mia," the blue-haired male cheered. "He really said that?"

"Yes but… I laughed to his face! I'm so dumb." Mia sighed as Stefan crouched in front of her. "He must hate me now."

Zihark shrugged. "Well, I guess he must feel a little down, but I don't think he hates you Mia."

"He ran off to feed the dogs right after I told him I didn't believe him."

"What dogs?"

"Exactly!" Mia cried and threw herself at Stefan to hug his stronger frame. The half-breed was startled but he regained his composure and patted his friend's back gently. "And I haven't seen him since then! He must be trying to avoid me!"

Stefan gagged when she hugged him harder and buried her face in his chest. He threw a helpless look at Zihark, but it was clear the laguz-loving fighter would not be of any help. "Well, I guess you just have to… find him and apologize?" he suggested.

"But how do I do it?" the young woman asked, her voice muffled by Stefan's shirt.

"Use your mouth," Zihark smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Mia's head shot up. "Shut it! I'm not in the mood for teasing!" She released her iron grip on Stefan and got up. "Maybe he is in his room! I'll go and see." Without as much as another glance at her partners, she took off and sped out of the mess.

Stefan got up as well and wiped a non-existent tear from his eye. "My little girl… look at her now, she's all grown up and chasing innocent little priests!" he said, faking a few sniffles. "I'm so proud."

"Indeed, she's a… great perv," Zihark stated, nodding his head knowingly. But then he stared at the wall, thought a little, and tried to copy Mia's moves and stand on his hands upside-down with his feet against the wall. Needless to say… the floor of the mess hall wasn't any softer than the floor of his room.

* * *

Rhys was, indeed, in his room. Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he idly wondered what it would take to make Ashera turn back time to the previous evening. _Stop it, it doesn't help to wish nothing ever occurred, _the priest sighed. He had only gotten so much as three hours of sleep, and had gone through two hours of hard training to master a new light tome. The best way to spend the rest of the morning was a nice little nap, it seemed.

_I just hope I won't dream about it… _

But right then his door flung open, making him jump. "Rhys!" a voice called. A well-known voice.

Rhys bit his bottom lip but before he could answer a weigh landed on his bed. Mia's face came into his field of sight. "Are you sleeping?"

"Well, not anymore, anyway," Rhys muttered, unmoving. He wasn't sure if it was because he was too uneasy to move or if his muscles were too sore because of the training.

"Oh, sorry! Sorry to have woken you up! And sorry for this morning." Mia lowered her gaze to stare at the bed sheets. "I hope you aren't angry at me because of what I told you. I didn't mean it, I swear I really thought that Stefan and Zihark were trying to trick me." She raised her head. "I'm sure you think I'm… what's that?" She reached out to touch a scratch across his cheek.

He had almost forgotten he had gotten a cut when the spell had backfired, but he didn't show it. "Nothing you should be worried about," the priest answered softly, staring at the wall to avoid looking into Mia's bright green eyes.

The girl stayed silent for a few seconds. "Well… I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

"Don't worry about it," he assured, still not looking at her.

"In fact…" Mia stopped talking to scratch the back of her head awkwardly. "I have a hard time imagining myself coaxing you into sleeping with me. It sounds so… whorish, or something."

Rhys cringed upon hearing the last bit of her sentence. That word really, really didn't suit Mia and it bothered him to hear it when it has something to do with her. "It's all right, Mia, I wouldn't call what you did _whorish_, it wasn't… barbaric enough I think," he said to ease her mind.

Fortunately, she looked relieved, and he relaxed enough to settle his head on the pillow. Rhys told himself Mia would leave soon now that she had apologized – but then again, were they needed? – but she wasn't exactly finished. "And… about what you said… is it true you would have… if I had been…?"

The many blanks were audible in her sentence but still the orange-haired priest understood what she meant. "Yes… but now it sounds stupid."

"Why that?" Mia asked.

"Because I said it. Those things aren't meant to be told," he muttered mournfully, his eyes stuck on a wrinkle on the sheets.

Mia leaned forwards to hover over him. "Is that so? Well, if it bothers you so much, let's say I didn't hear anything," she said cheerfully, her happy tone returning. "This morning never happened, and I'm just too drunk to remember anything! How does that sound?"

"As tempting as it is, things just don't work like that, unfortunately," Rhys said. "You can't erase what happened even if you try really hard."

"True… sorry, I'm just being stupid."

A deep and uneasy silence settled in the room. Rhys' gaze went from the wall to the bed, to the ceiling and again to the wall. Everything was worth looking at if it meant not looking at Mia. The young woman shifted her weigh on the mattress, fidgeting nervously with the sheet. It was her who broke the silence first. "If I hadn't been so stupid, we would know what to tell each other."

"Mia, please, I already told you-"

"I know. But if I hadn't drunk so much, we could be laughing and making fun of me mistaking you for my rival, or something. We wouldn't be just… sitting here."

"See it that way: it could have ended in a much worse way than it did," Rhys said, trying to think positively. "I could have not stopped you."

"You're right. Goddess knows what my reaction would have been. Thank you, Rhys, you are truly a nice and gentle man."

"Don't mention it, anyone would have done the same," the priest waved. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "What really bothers me is… what I said to you this morning."

"What if you meant it?" Mia enquired gently, sitting closer.

"That's the problem, I meant it," the pale man sighed. He pursued without seeing the gentle smile that had crept on Mia's face. "Don't pretend you won't be giving me weird looks or changing your opinion of me."

"What makes you think I will?" the young woman stubbornly said, her smile disappearing to be replaced by a confusing look. "You are still the same person to me, Rhys, what makes you think I'd change anything I think about you?"

The priest sighed exasperatedly and propped himself up on his elbows to take a look at her. "Mia, stop it, there are things that just can't be ignored. Even the worst fool of Tellius knows these things I said aren't meant to be said in the first place."

Mia gave him a sad look and reached out to touch his cheek. "Oh, Rhys… don't worry about it, believe me." His skin was heated under her fingers; was he running a fever? On impulse, she blurted out. "You know, actually I think I-." She trailed off, having said too much yet not enough.

Rhys' look was one of confusion and hope as he stared at her, silently urging her to finish her sentence. But she never did; her gaze lowered once again to the bed sheets and stared at them a good while. "I think I… should check up on Ilyana," the girl finished lamely. She hoped Rhys would remember that the frail lavender-haired mage hadn't been feeling well the previous day and would buy her little lie. She got up before Rhys had any chance to stop her, verbally at least. "See you around."

Mattress shifting, footsteps echoing, door slamming. She was gone in the blink of an eye, not wanting Rhys to see her barely-concealed blush. She walked down the corridor before she realized she wasn't breathing anymore. Mia straightened and took a good healthy breath to calm herself. _What _had just happened? Now it was her turn to feel uneasy about her feelings. Did she love Rhys? To be perfectly honest with herself, she had for quite a while; why else did she keep on training him to be a sword fighter although he barely knew how to hold a weapon? She wanted to spend time with him…

_Actually, I think I'll go see __Ilyana, _Mia told herself. _Maybe she could help me. _

Her friend was bunking with Soren, the cold tactician of the mercenaries. When she was asked why, the fragile mage said he helped her with magic tomes, but Mia knew better. Even though Ilyana was too shy to admit it, and Soren too cold-hearted to even note it, there was no mistaking the attraction that drew the two sages together. Opposites really attract, those two were the living proof of that saying.

Mia knocked on the door a few times and waited. Unfortunately, it wasn't Ilyana who opened the door, but a scruffy-looking Soren. His glare clearly said "I'm-not-in-a-good-mood-note-this-is-not-unusual-so-make-it-quick-and-leave-me-alone" but Mia wasn't fazed. She had grown used to the tactician's glares and snide comments; she idly wondered if she had woken him up or if she had interrupted something. "Hello," the swordmaster greeted.

"What do you want?" the raven-haired sage grumbled, definitely in a sour mood.

"Is Ilyana here?"

"No, she went out to take a walk with Mordecai, why do you ask?"

"Oh… nothing," Mia faked. "I only wanted to check up on her, is she all right?"

"Yes she is, now if you would be so kind as to leave me alone, I'd like to sleep." The sage closed the door softly before she could add anything else.

_Meh. Typical. _Mia shrugged and turned around, only to collide with something. Said something was a little ball of wild green hair with legs that ran straight into her. Startled, Mia flailed around not to fall off. "Rolf!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry Mia! I didn't see you standing here!" the young archer hurriedly apologized. He had gotten a bump of his own, but instead of whimpered over it like he usually did he just jumped to his feet, ready to bolt again.

"Wait! Where are you going?" the young woman asked.

"No time to speak about it!" Almost immediately, Rolf began banging on Soren's door. "Soren! Soren! Come quick!" he yelled. Mia winced; he probably had woken up everyone by now.

The dark-haired sage flung the door open a second time, now clearly pissed. "Is it so hard to understand some of us people need to _sleep_?" he hissed between his teeth.

To Mia's utter surprise, Rolf didn't cower away from the deadly glare he was receiving – some would already have wet their pants. In fact the boy just stood tall and spoke up again. "Quick! Take your staff and follow me! It's serious!"

Soren frowned. "What is happening?"

Rolf's next words made Mia's blood run cold. "It's Rhys! I… I think he is dying!"


	3. Chapter 3: Finally

_**Feverish Part III**_

"Rolf! I never said Rhys was dying!" Mist panted. She was completely out of breath after running through the fort to catch up to Rolf. She skipped to a stop and had to bend over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath before she could speak again. "Rolf and I found him in the training room, and he had trouble breathing. He lost consciousness soon after, and we managed to carry him to his room but I-I don't know what is happening to him!"

Soren ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. "He probably pushed himself too hard again. I'll be back shortly." The door closed and when it opened again, a few seconds later, Soren was wearing one of his dark robes. "Let's go."

"I'm coming!" Mia announced at once. Soren just nodded and only spared her a quick glance before he began to make his way down the corridor. Mist was at his side, but Rolf was running a few steps ahead, worry for his priest friend etched all over his youthful face. Mia couldn't blame him: she actually lost control about after a minute or so of walking, and ran to Rhys' room.

The orange-haired man was sprawled out on the floor on his side, his white robes covering his unmoving frame. His legs were slightly bent towards his chest, and from where Mia stood she could see he was clutching his Nosferatu tome tightly in his hands.

"Been training too hard again," Soren stated matter-of-factly as he entered the room, taking a look at the unconscious healer. "When will he learn… well, don't stand here Mia, help me get him on the bed."

Shaken from her trail of thoughts, Mia made her way over to Rhys and slipped her arms around his waist, trying to lift him up. Rhys was light, true, but given his small and sickly frame he wasn't so light. She had to wait for Soren to carry Rhys with her to drag him onto the bed. Rolf was fidgeting, stealing glances whenever Mia or Soren got out of the way; Mist patted his shoulder to reassure him somewhat, but the young archer was still nervous.

Soren checked Rhys over for any physical injury. When he found none, he searched for the healer's pulse. "Mhmm his heart is beating way too fast… and he is burning up," the sage mumbled absently as he brushed his hand over Rhys's forehead. "He worked himself too hard, that's certain."

"What's wrong with him?" Mia asked; although she might know the true reason behind Rhys' state, she wanted a medical answer.

"He's ill and has always been," Soren explained absently, already going to Rhys' nightstand to look for any medicine. "It's been a long time since his last relapse, though. Those seem to happen especially if he's stressed out or exhausted, and this time I think it is the latter."

Mia shook her head. "I'm sorry, this is my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Soren scoffed as he worked to remove Rhys' sweat-drenched top. "He has been ill since he was born, don't put the blame on yourself."

"Yes but… I feel I'm somehow responsible for what's happening to him."

"Whatever you say." Soren then ignored Mia as he rummaged through Rhys' drawers to find what he wanted. For a few seconds Mist and Rolf, who were still present, exchanged worried looks with one another as Mia stared at Rhys' unconscious form. His lean and pale chest was heaving slightly with each tiny breath he took, and when Mia took a closer look at his upper body, she noticed there was a pink scar across his stomach. Before she could dwell on it further, Soren spoke up. "Found it," he stated as he held up a small leather bag.

"What is it?" Rolf asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Those are herbs that help Rhys with his illness," Soren calmly explained to the young archer. He opened the small pouch to reveal a mix of light and dark green herbs. "They usually put an end to any secretion of toxins in his body, though the taste… leaves much to be desired." He stuffed the pouch in his pocket. "I'll go make some tea with those, and I hope Gatrie doesn't drink it that time."

Mia allowed herself a small smile. "He won't. He was sick last time."

Soren nodded and brought the cover up to Rhys' chin. "It won't be pretty. When he wakes up, he'll be nauseous, he'll have a headache," he mumbled, almost to himself. "Dear Goddess, here I thought we had gotten rid of that."

"Maybe one day, he'll heal," Rolf piped in, hopeful.

"Not likely. Let's not talk about what could happen, as of now he's ill and the first thing to do is to tame his fever," the dark-haired tactician said.

Mia was nervously fidgeting with her sleeve. "I can take care of him, if you want, Soren," she offered quietly, but still Soren heard her.

"No Mia, I'll do it, he taught me how to take care of him. Besides, as I said earlier, it won't be a pretty sight."

He was going to pursue his line of thoughts but his voice trailed off as Mia's eyes took a pleading glint. "Please, Soren. It… it means much to me."

The half-breed finally sighed. "Very well. I'll be back shortly with the herbal tea, we'll make him drink it. Call me if he begins coughing up blood." The sage walked out of the room, pushing Mist and Rolf along. The young archer protested; he wanted to watch over his friend too, but one deathly glare from Soren shut him up.

Mia grabbed a nearby stool and took place at Rhys' bedside. She then took her time to watch him; paler than usual, with a thin trail of sweat running down his neck, the priest looked like he was having a hard time breathing. Mia wondered how he had managed to survive through all these years of illness. On impulse, she reached out and affectionately caressed his forehead, brushing his orange bangs out of his face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered shamefully. "I never wanted to make you fall ill. Please forgive me, Rhys."

Several minutes later, Mia was still stroking his forehead and cheek, and she felt the teeth clench through the flesh. Rhys' hand clutched a handful of sheets as he slowly regained consciousness. The purple-haired swordmaster's hand went to cover his and her thumb stroked his knuckles as eventually his amber eyes opened halfway.

Mia was so happy the priest had awakened she grinned. "Hi!" she greeted cheerfully. However she regretted speaking so loud when Rhys winced and turned his head a bit. "Oops… sorry, Rhys." When she noticed he kept his jaws tightly closed she understood pain was preventing him from speaking, so she went back to caressing his forehead soothingly. She smiled at him when his grip on the sheets loosened, but his teeth were still clenched and his eyes closed from time to time as waves of pain washed over him.

"Shhh." Mia's hand moved down to cup his cheek, and he leaned into it. "Take it easy… everything is going to be fine… sshhhh." She couldn't help but feel very pleased when he nestled into her hand and the muscles of his cheeks relaxed. He wasn't in pain anymore.

However great her relief was, it was short-lived. A violent shudder ran through Rhys as he suffered a massive coughing fit. Mia sat him up a bit; she hugged and comforted him as he seemed to cough his lungs out. When he stopped, Mia made him lay down again, and when she looked at his face she saw a thin trail of blood running down his chin. "Oh, Rhys…" She cleaned off the blood with a cloth she found on the nightstand and ran a hand through his bright hair as he panted heavily. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The priest shook his head a little, but Mia would have none of it. "No, I'm sorry. Nothing of that should have happened." She stopped talking to ease his headache and caressed his cheek repetitively to give him something good to focus on. Rhys' breathing got calmer and he even brought a hand up to rest upon Mia's that was stroking his cheek.

The young woman took his shaking hand between hers and massaged the sweating palm. It was then that Soren walked in, a steaming cup of tea in one hand. "He woke up? Good." He put down the cup on the nightstand and put the leather pouch back in its drawer. "Make him drink it slowly, don't rush him. It normally takes effect quickly. I'll be finishing my chart in my bedroom if you need me." When she nodded, Soren exited the room once more.

Mia tried to plaster a smile on her face. "Okay Rhys, it's tea time," she said gently as she took the steaming cup. However the smell made her wince. "Phew! Say, Rhys, are you a masochist? Because it seems to me you are, if you drink stuff like that," she joked. His pained smile sobered her up immediately. "Come on, let's get you up."

She put the cup down and sat on the bed beside Rhys. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around his torso and brought him to a sitting position. With one arm, she held him against her chest and with the other she reached out to snatch the cup of tea. Mia settled down comfortably on the bed with Rhys against her and blew on the steaming liquid.

"Here you go," she announced when the tea had cooled down a little. Rhys thanked her with a nod and allowed her to help him drink from the cup. Mia held him up as he drank, stroking his hair and massaging his nape while muttering soft words to encourage him. She found it surprisingly easy to comfort Rhys and to help him.

Soon the cup was empty, and Rhys wasn't so pale anymore. His cheeks had gained a bit of color, and his breathing was normal again. Mia kissed the top of his head. "There, feeling better?" The priest nodded and she put the cup back on the nightstand. "It feels like your fever broke, those herbs really work." By all means now she should get up and leave him alone, but she didn't want to.

Mia rested her head on his bare shoulder and hugged him to her chest. "Are you cold?"

"No," he answered in a raspy voice.

The young woman smiled, happy to have him talking to her again. "Are you hot then?"

"I'd like to be, but I lack experience in that territory," Rhys rasped, and Mia could have sworn she could hear a smile and a chuckle in his voice.

"You are kidding me, Rhys, you're the hottest guy to have ever walked on Tellius," she told him as seriously as she could, stifling her laughter. "With maybe Haar's wyvern."

The priest chuckled and she felt him relax against her. "Well, as much as I want to find someone to compare to, I can't. You're the most beautiful woman to have ever walked on Tellius."

"Aww don't do that," Mia whined. "I'm a sucker for cheesy and romantic lines. They make me cry. Once Stefan and Zihark forced me to watch a romantic play, and I cried so much they called me water fountain for days."

"Well, that wasn't very nice," he mumbled.

"Say, Rhys, do you have feelings for me?"

The priest froze immediately. A vague feeling of déjà-vu settled over his mind, and he remembered the blurry gaze, the drunken laughter, the heat of their kiss. But there was none of that now, they were perfectly sober and Mia was asking that question as though she had never asked it. Was she doing this on purpose, to erase what happened, or did she honestly not remember a thing? How could a woman be so bold?

"I…" he began, but his voice trailed off as he stared at the ceiling.

Mia smiled gently. "I knew it. I have feelings for you too."

At this, Rhys was left speechless, but she didn't leave him time to think up of an answer. "Yeah, I have weird feelings in fact, I don't know what to make of them," she added, wincing and scratching her head. "First I thought it was those onions I had eaten, but I don't always eat onions so… Then I realized it happened only when you were close and I- why, I stink?" she growled when Rhys gave out a light chuckle.

"Why do you say that ?"

"The onions?" When Rhys chuckled again she shrugged and went on. "Anyway! Every time you're near I've got that onion sickness tearing my belly apart, it's terribly painful!... give it to me, doc, am I gonna die?"

Rhys smiled. "I don't know. There might be a cure, but I don't know if it would work."

"Anything sounds good to me," Mia said, faking great pain. "Because right now, those onions are twisting and screaming."

"Let's shut them up," the priest said softly, turning his head around to cup one of her cheeks. Before she could ask what he intended to do, his lips were on hers and his kiss was the sweetest one she had ever been given. Not that she had kissed _that _many boys in her life, but she figured it was quite sweet. Anyway, moving on.

Mia wrapped her arms around Rhys' neck as she deepened the kiss. They only broke it when they felt a annoying need for oxygen. "Why do I have a feeling of déjà-vu?" Mia asked, caressing the orange hair.

"Let's see… maybe because it already happened?" Rhys suggested, amused.

"How could I forget…"

* * *

"I'm worried."

"You said that over ten times already."

"Stefan, it's been two hours! What could possibly keep her in Rhys' room that long!"

"Well I could think of a few things…"

"… you're disgusting, you know that?"

"I've been told so."

"So… what do we do now?"

"Stupid question, Zihark. This is exactly why I shall always be the master, and you, my apprentice."

"_So, what _do we do _now?_"

"We spy on them, of course!"


End file.
